


Shadows on the Horizon

by RaeValentine



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Atem is a God, Blood and Violence, Deadly Shadows, Killing Colossus in the name of Love, Kissing, Long-Haired Atem, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prideshipping, Seto is a desperate and sad prince, Shadow of the Colossus Fusion, Temporary Character Death, Touching, Yugi is a kind witch, no romance we angst read like men, rivalshipping - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-15 00:30:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13601706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeValentine/pseuds/RaeValentine
Summary: /That place.. began from the resonance of intersecting points..They are memories, replaced by ens and naught, and etched into stone.Blood, young sprouts, sky -and the one with the ability to control beings created from light../Gods, Seto thought, eyes shut tight to the world of grey around him.They were so cruel, demanding and frivolous.If a single tear carved a wet and sorrowful path down his cheek, no one had to be the wiser./In that world, it is said that if one should wish itone can bring back the souls of the dead....But to trespass upon that land is strictly forbidden./[Or, Seto goes on an epic journey to recover his lover's lost soul. Working fic title.]





	1. Ursa Major

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to this angstfest. Strap in lads, this is not going to be pretty.
> 
> Shadow of the Colossus is one of my all-time favorite video games, and it recently got an HD remaster! Eighteen year old Rae is flipping out, while 27 year old Rae is gay and thriving.
> 
> No SotC knowledge should be required to read this fic, but if you have any questions at all, please don't hesitate to ask! (Looking things up for yourself is also an option, but you might spoil yourself.)
> 
> I'll list each colossus in the end notes as they are slain so we can all keep track of them together!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy, this is going to be a hell of a ride. <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ursa Major is a constellation in the northern sky, whose associated mythology likely dates back into prehistory. Its Latin name means "greater she-bear", standing as a reference to and in direct contrast with nearby Ursa Minor, the lesser bear.

Looking back, Seto never asked for this - for _any_ of it. 

Scaling the cliffside on horseback, one arm supporting the body wrapped securely in a thin cotton shroud, he watched a glossy black hawk swoop by, white-tipped wings steady on course for the massive temple gate still some miles ahead. The rain on his face was anything but cleansing, and he tucked the bundle closer into his side in a meager attempt at shelter.

He could just barely make out the soaring facade through the gloomy drizzle and overcast sky, so dark against the heavens. That night, he left his little brother behind, stole the body of his lover - blood still freshly staining the clothes - grabbed his faithful steed, the sword of legend, and fled the village. The only home he'd ever known had betrayed him, sacrificing his lover in cold blood while he watched, restrained by the village elder. 

Normally, witches were burned for the crime of daring to practice their craft, but Yugi never hurt a soul, only using his gifts for good. That didn't matter once the wicked blue steel touched his heart. Now he was gone, and there was nothing that could change that.

But Seto, he believed otherwise.

He grew up on the old stories of the Forbidden Lands and the gods that resided there, lording over the shattered ruins of their temples, unable to corrupt mankind any longer. Legends always had a grain of truth to them, and if any hope for Yugi remained, he would find it there, across the Endless Bridge. 

Seto spurred his horse onward, urging the animal to jump a small gap in the path, watching pebbles scatter upon landing. He tapped her on the flank and clicked his tongue, encouraging her to continue their desperate journey. 

Through a grey-washed forest they rode, him and his beloved; eyes closed to the world, so peaceful in death. Yugi's sacrifice had broken some hopeful part of him, scattering his future like ash upon the winds. No one deserved to have their life cut short, their dreams and aspirations rotting away with them in the grave. Not like that - not like _him._

Dull green canopies sway above him, a painted blur between shifts of light and dark. He saw the moon high above, its light reflected in the lake water beside him, and Seto knew he could ride no more tonight.

He made camp in the shade of an overhang and curled up in a spare blanket to wait out the morning.

***

The next day proved to be no better.

Seto knew the sun had risen an hour ago - had seen through his sleep-deprived haze the blossom of light in the east. It was time to keep moving, the Forbidden Lands would not be much farther. Yugi's body - still swaddled in soft cotton, now damp with dew - went into the saddle first. Seto followed suit, easily boosting himself onto the horse's back. 

Tipping his head back, he let the raindrops slide down his skin; so alike the tears he couldn't seem to shed, so wrapped up in grief that it would take a miracle to lift his shattered spirits again.

A _miracle_ is exactly what Seto was counting on.

Across a rain-shrouded meadow they rode; for miles, everything around him is bathed in green hues and kissed by grey light.

"Just a bit more," he mutters, fingers twisting at the soaked funeral shroud as though it were his last, solemn anchor in this world of silence and death.

***

The gateway into the Forbidden Lands comes within sight a few hours later; a cliffside split in two and carved by meticulous hands. A bucolic meadow stands at the forefront, the last guardian of a ravaged land.

Seto urges his white steed forward without preamble. There is light beyond the stone gate, bright and so inviting.

He gets the sudden and distinct feeling that he will not be returning home once all is said and done.

Kisara's hooves clack noisily against the cobblestone path, jarring Seto from his morbid reverie.

The Forbidden Lands stretch out wide before them, majestic and frozen in time. The Endless Bridge lies ahead, and his horse plods onward without prompting. Desert sands spread out beneath him, arid and hungry for another set of bones.

In the distance, he can make out the temple's outline in the graceless afternoon sunlight. The wind is relentless, blowing still damp jade tresses from stoic, hate-shrouded hazel eyes. 

Seto was a proud man, but the sting of betrayal and heartache was still too fresh for there to be room in his heart for anything more.

Sheer cliffs - topped in ruffled green and speckled with sand - surrounded the desert on either side. The warrior knew they extended far beyond that, encircling the entire countryside; a natural cage for unnatural beings.

In no time at all, they approach the end of the bridge, the temple looming high above them. A family of black hawks surround the natural rock edifice - a dark omen, if ever there was one. Good thing he paid omens - good or bad - about as much attention as his step-father had before taking the love of his life away.

It was easy to coax Kisara forward; his trusted horse had yet to disobey any command given, and now was no exception.

The heavy stone door slides immediately open, as though it sensed their approach. Kisara prances backward, whickering in displeasure. Seto has no time to worry about frightened animals, quickly nudging her along with a quick press of heels to her flank.

She reluctantly descends the carved steps, and Seto takes a moment to look back as the last slivers of sunshine disappear as the door slides shut.

He gets that wayward feeling again, like this place at the end of the world will be his tomb - or his _salvation._

He urges Kisara onward, through pitch black and narrow halls. Finally, a dim grey cuts through the gloom and Seto finds himself in a circular chamber; a ramp spirals around the edge, stone pockmarked with dust everywhere he looks. The ceiling above is too shrouded in darkness to clearly make out, but he knows no sunlight has ever found its way into this place.

Kisara turns of her own accord, following the route downward. The descent is gradual, but with little direction, she makes it down in due time. A shallow pool of water, no deeper than Kisara's chest, rests at the very bottom. Seto spares the murky depths a cursory glance before his horse dances away; with a tug of the reins, she's back on track, bypassing the ramp and walking further into the temple proper.

He spies the first rays of light, swimming in motes of dust and detritus of ages past. His horse needs no more guidance; she must smell fresher air beyond, and makes her way slowly down a short flight of steps into a grand hall, bathed in soft earthy tones and echoing in somber seclusion.

Shafts of light trickle down from above, a circular skylight scored into the stone by ancient hands. Ribbed arches hold the ceiling in sturdy measure, but that is not the first thing that catches his attention.

All along either side of the hall, half-hidden in smoky niches, lie a series of dust-smeared statues. Larger than life, each depicts a monster straight out of the old stories, their faces frozen in time. 

Seto feels a sense of unease as he passes each one by, avoiding their dead gaze and clutching his precious bundle tightly against his chest.

If gods were real, then perhaps these were the shades of long-dead immortals, placed here as a reminder to future generations.

There was only _one_ god in particular Seto was interested in speaking with.

A dais lies at the fringes of the hall; a stone overhang shields the plinth from most of the elements, but it is clear to him where Yugi must be placed. He wasn't just a body; somewhere out there was a pure soul of the most beautiful person Seto had ever known, and it was time to reclaim it from the stark reaches of the Afterlife.

Kisara balked before coming to a complete stop a few feet from the steps. She would go no further, which meant the final few steps were his alone to take. A sigh slips into the air as Seto finally dismounts; his feet hit solid ground, resolve kindling anew with every step he takes. He pauses only long enough to take Yugi into his arms before approaching the stone slab.

No human has set foot in this place since ancient times, yet everything seems frozen, sparkling with muted wonder. Should his people decide to break taboo and brave the Forbidden Lands, this temple alone would house the entire populace; just one village scattered along the hills, but he could not imagine a worse fate.

Each step feels like a mile, bright sunlight scorching his eyes; Seto bows his head, standing in the dim shadow of the overhang. The shroud flutters around Yugi's ankles, caught in a sudden swirl of wind. He treasures these last few moments, his lover so light in his arms, peaceful and limp in death.

He swallows the grief down, hot and thick on his tongue; carefully, he sets his precious cargo on the plinth, arranging the body as though Yugi were simply asleep. Dried blood coats his shirt, thick flakes of rust marring an otherwise perfect illusion of tranquility. 

In one swift movement, Seto pulls the cloth from Yugi's still body, where it dances on the breeze until it falls, lifeless to the sand-dusted stone. 

_He really could be sleeping_ , Seto thinks, his first conscious thought in some time. Yugi's hair was his most distinctive trait; wild and curly, it normally swayed to and fro, unbound by any tool of man. Now it lay still, tied back in beaded braids, leaving the curled lightning at his brow free to frame a fallen angel's face. 

Yugi's eyes were a close second; now soft and still, they were once bright with mischief, dark skies sparkling in his irises and crinkling with mirth every time he laughed. Comparing them to anything less was a disservice to his memory. 

What was once a picture of innocence, now cold and lifeless, a sea of sunshine his only company.

Seto's hands begin to shake, clenched tightly at his sides and knocking against the pommel of his sword. 

He remembers the legends, fresh and crisp in his mind. The old men of his village passed them down, an oral testament to their ancestor's failings. 

/That place.. began from the resonance of intersecting points..  
They are memories, replaced by ens and naught, and etched into stone.  
Blood, young sprouts, sky -  
and the one with the ability to control beings created from light../ 

_Gods_ , Seto thought, eyes shut tight to the world of grey around him. _They were so cruel, demanding and frivolous._

If a single tear carved a wet and sorrowful path down his cheek, no one had to be the wiser.

/In that world, it is said that if one should wish it  
one can bring back the souls of the dead..  
..But to trespass upon that land is strictly forbidden./ 

Taking a deep breath through parched lungs, he swipes a hand across his eyes, banishing the tears. Time enough for that later, once their reunion in this life was complete. Seto had a task before him, one that he knew would change the course of his life forever: to bring back Yugi's soul from the far reaches of the Afterlife.

Squelching boots through viscous mud, Kisara's neighs of distress, and the moaning of disembodied spirits shatter the tomb-like silence. 

Seto turns to find a line of shadows, wearing the dark silhouettes of man. They must have come from the temple itself, manifesting to feed on his rage and grief. He calmly draws the sword strapped to his hip, the blade scraping lightly against a leather scabbard. Kisara prances backward, whickering in fear.

He holds the sword aloft; shafts of light scatter in prisms of ice blue, a holy nimbus around damascus steel. The middle of the blade sweeps inwards, a concavity of sharp intent as he points it at each target. It vibrates, deep bell-like tones sweeping the shadows from sight, back to their realm of inky darkness from whence they crawled.

Thunder and lightning clash, a cacophony of sound over the sweeping hills. Clouds dance and swirl in the heavens, yet the blazing beams of light never waver, shimmers of golden dust floating easily on the still air.

 _There is a presence here_ , Seto thinks, cold eyes narrow and thoughtful. _Finally._

"Hmm? Thou possess the Ancient Sword?"

A voice - several, at least three or four molded clumsily into a singular audible tone - trickles down from the oracular opening in the temple ceiling. The warrior holds his breath, waiting; rage slowly drips away, revealing an intense curiosity underneath.

"Ah, so thou art mortal.." the voice whispers, a beat of silence following the disembodied words.

"Are you the god of the Forbidden Lands?" His voice is raw, stilted and unused. Seto clears his throat softly, tries again. "I was told that in this place at the ends of the world -" he calmly sheaths the Ancient Sword, the halo of ice white disappearing into darkness "- there exists a being who can control the souls of the dead." A thrill of fear slips down his spine, but he dismisses it. The warrior prince of Khemet fears neither god nor idol.

"Thou art correct," the voice slithers down from the sky, a sibilant hiss on stale air. "I am called Osiris by the bird masters and lords of the sky." It seems to change, a deep guttering rumble of thunder among rubble. 

"I am called Obelisk by the tomb keepers, plying their secrets among the shadows." It rises into the light on silent wings, searing and bright, clear as a bird's cry. 

"I am called Ra by the sun worshippers who paint the dawn with their somber tunes." 

There is a swish of fabric and a swirl of inky shadows; a man appears in the golden aurora, garbed in drops of gold and pale linen, a semblance of wings rippling upon the proud back in sheets of indigo. "But you, traveler, may know me as Atem."

From the corner of his eye, Seto notes the shroud - cream and outlined in the symbols of their tribe - flutter on silent wings into some dark corner of the dais behind him. The warrior prince has eyes for no one but the god standing before him.

Dark skin, sharp angles filled by toned muscle, a crown of sweeping gold resting upon a noble brow. The god's hair falls in coiling wisps of mahogany down to the middle of his back, with auric curls of light - so reminiscent of his fallen love as to leave Seto speechless - framing the face of the forgotten divine. 

"He was sacrificed for having a cursed fate," Seto turns his body halfway, glancing back at Yugi's slumbering form. "You _have_ to bring his soul back." He was not one to ask or take no for an answer - not even from a god.

"That man's _soul_?" Atem laughs, deeply amused at his tenacity. "Souls that are once lost cannot be reclaimed. Is that not the law of mortals?" His voice almost seems normal now - a charming baritone, smooth as a bolt of silk.

Seto whirls back to face him, fist tight on the sword's grip, tabard rippling in the light breeze. "Then take _mine_ instead!" He takes a step forward, toeing the edge of stone. "A soul for a soul. Isn't that equal?"

Atem sighs, a wisp of breath through glistening white teeth. "I cannot," he holds up a hand before the prince can offer any more. "But with that sword you carry, your request may not be impossible."

Seto bristles, pride coiling in his gut to simmer and boil, stoking the flames of rage once again. "You tell me this _now_?!"

The god's eyes narrow - flecks of fire among inky shadow - and this time, the prince cannot ignore the fright petering out in a silent snarl. 

"Perhaps, if you manage to accomplish what we ask of you in return."

The voice melds once again into an amalgamation of several speaking at once. This was no normal god, of that Seto was sure. He was not yet so bewitched by the appearance of youth and beauty to refuse the lifeline they offered him.

"What do I have to do?"

A note of desperation leaks into his tone, and he prays the god will ignore it, just this once.

Atem's lips curl, just enough to be noticable. "Behold the idols that stand along the wall," he turns, sweeping an arm down the temple to indicate the dusty effigies. "Thou art to destroy all of them."

"That's _all_?" Seto scoffs, prideful until his last breath. 

The god chuckles, high and deep all at once. "Those idols cannot be destroyed - not by the hands of a mere _mortal_.."

The prince flicks hazel eyes over each idol depiction before turning to face the godling once more.

"Then what must I do?"

Atem shrugs, a quick blur of movement Seto can barely follow. "In this land, there exist colossi that are the incarnations of those idols." He holds up a single finger, pointing it at the prince. "If thou defeat those colossi -" The prince can easily spy the challenge before the god's lips move to deliver it, eyes fixated on the slant of gold holding back his cape. "- the idols shall fall."

"I understand."

"But heed this," Atem's hand lowers to his side, and Seto has no excuse but to look back into the depths of those eyes - swimming in hellfire and brimming with shadow. "The price you pay may be heavy indeed."

"It doesn't matter," His conviction is sealed, and he knows there will be no turning back now. "I'll pay whatever price I need to."

"Very well." Atem flicks a forefinger toward the sun-glazed balcony behind the plinth. "Raise thy sword by the light.." The combination of voices - a sibilant hiss, a baritone rumble, a rasping caw - begins to slowly fade into a ghostly whisper. "- and head to the place where the sword's light gathers.." Seto turns into the light, gazing out into the barren jade fields beyond. "There, thou shalt find the colossi thou art to defeat."

Seto takes a final, long look at Yugi's still form; he brushes a wisp of gold from the pale brow and sighs.

 _I do this for you_ , he thinks, just as a shifting of fabric announces the god's departure. 

"Now, be on thy way.." the last haunting notes of the god's whisper fill the prince's ears, and he takes the command for what it is: a clear dismissal.

He does so gladly; whistling to Kisara, he mounts the horse with ease and nudges her flank with the tips of his boots.

They depart the temple in swift measure, a warrior on his way to slay a giant, all in the name of love.

Kisara has trouble descending the wide stone steps leading out of the temple behind the dais, but Seto long ago learned patience in raising her; he dismounts, guiding her down each step until they reach solid ground.

A wide plain extends before him, stretching for miles around. A cloudy haze blankets the sky, but not enough to dispel the steady sunshine pouring through the gaps. Straight ahead, a sheer cliff rises into the heavens, broken only by a slim crevice. Even shading his eyes from the light, it's hard to tell how far away he would have to travel, the direction unclear at first glance.

_Raise thy sword by the light..._

The god's words ring fresh in his mind, and Seto draws the Ancient Sword, holding it proudly above his head.

A holy blue light flickers down the sharp steel edge, a starburst of color in a drab landscape. A scowl marring his features, the prince tilts the blade in a different direction; the light condenses into a single beam, pointing the way to his foe.

The blade sings, a solitary note of glorious challenge, and Seto knows he has found his first mark.

He sheaths the weapon, stepping into the leather stirrup and settling comfortably on his horse's back. He grabs the reins and clicks his tongue; her ears perk up, and she abandons the prospect of grazing to trot forward.

Their first destination is straight ahead, towards the crevice he spied earlier. Smaller hills dot the way, lining the path like a signpost. Seto nudges his heels into Kisara's flank, urging her into a full canter. The wind rushes in his ears, smearing the world around him in an earthy blur of color and sound.

It would be so easy to forget why he was here; if not for the guilt drawing fresh, bloody claws at his heart, Seto could lose himself in the wonders this land provides.

In no time at all, they approach the crevice; Kisara needs no prompting to ascend the small flight of stairs that precede the lone niche. Something was here once, standing proudly in the shadows; nothing now remains but a series of ledges crawling with vines, and the prince knows his horse must stay behind.

He dismounts in quick fashion, letting her reins hang loose. He gives her a soft pat and bids her to graze where she likes.

His only worry now is where to go next. Craning his head back, Seto notes the change in environment with a calculated eye. The sword brought him here, but there is no colossi within sight. 

_If there is nothing down here, then I will go up_ , he decides. Khemet's crown prince had long ago learned how to fight, taking down men twice his size when he was but a starry-eyed boy. Now, fully grown into his own, Seto tackles the cliffside with nothing but sheer determination and the will to succeed fueling his efforts.

Seto hops each gap, well aware of the consequences of falling, but never once giving it actual thought. He rolls beneath a fallen column and springs to his feet, eager to continue. The rest of the climb is simple, jumping from one ledge up to the next, until he finally reaches the top.

The crevice opens onto a larger area, hidden behind the cliff face. He takes a moment to catch his breath and rest; it wasn't an arduous climb, but the prince would come to appreciate these moments in the future. Scrub brush dots the field, a calm before the storm.

The earth trembles, gargantuan steps falling and crashing, scattering dust and shale. A hand appears, massive and armored in dusky rock. A leg follows, all dull furry hide and muscle; a large club, far bigger than Seto is tall, gripped tightly in its other hand. It passes by at a sedate pace, slow and uncaring, a force of nature made flesh.

It lumbers on, unaware of the human's presence below. Seto uses this to his advantage, dashing forward and slinging the bow from his back. He carries a small quiver strapped to his other hip for hunting his own game - irony at its finest.

The colossus ambles onward to destinations unknown, but its life would be cut short very soon if Khemet's prince had anything to say about it. Seto whistles to catch the beast's attention, high and piercing. It flicks an ear, but does not otherwise react.

The arrow burrowing itself high on the round of its shoulder has the beast singing a different tune. It turns slowly, startling teal gaze settling on the human below. 

_Finally_ , Seto thinks, sheathing his bow and drawing the Ancient Sword. _The battle begins._

_"Hold up thy sword to reflect the light onto the colossus. Its vitals shall be revealed..."_

The voice of the god Atem slithers down from on high, filling his ears until the prince hears nothing but the rumbling and grinding of earthen joints, setting his teeth to chattering.

He holds the blade aloft, sparking the beam of light onto its ursine face. A fluttering of bird's wings overhead become the soundtrack to the beginnings of a fierce battle.

Its snout is fully encased in stone, leaving its hateful eyes free to bore into the crown prince as it steps forward to accept the challenge. 

There is only one way to topple a giant: you _climb_.

Seto spies the edge of a small platform on the bear's back, a stone girdle for an ancient warrior. That's the second step; the _first_ is getting onto the beast itself without being trampled.

He dashes around the massive hooves, shod in stone and crushing grass underfoot with every lumbering step it takes. It is far too slow for him, and the left leg makes an easy first target. Dodging each slothful step, the prince leaps onto the first bit of fur he can reach, grabbing thick clumps in both fists and hanging on for dear life. 

A thin crimson mist leaks from a teal fissure in the beast's calf; malformed wisps of discontent, an obvious weak point. Seto lifts the sword high, plunging it into the soft flesh. The bear immediately reacts, stumbling forward onto one knee with an ear-piercing howl, one huge fist striking the ground to catch itself. 

There is no indication of death, so there must be another weak point somewhere higher on the colossus. A series of grooves lie before him, hardened rock fastened to vulnerable skin, and Seto does the only logical thing: he keeps climbing.

Instead of sheathing the sword, the prince clutches the handle tightly, awkwardly springing from one groove to the next until he reaches the small platform on the creature's lower back. Seto is a tall man, but never had he reached such heights before. He spies two more small ledges, and leaps higher still, using the bear's coarse fur as a guide.

From his new vantage point, there is nothing else to prevent his ascent onto the creature's back, save for the bear itself. It never stays still, slowly ambling forward, attempting to shake him off every few moments. Seto holds on for dear life, though his own holds no meaning if he cannot avenge his fallen love.

After waiting out the next fit, the prince climbs higher still, like a mouse clinging to a lion's back; no matter how much it cries and shakes, he remains, ever vigilant. By now, he's worked up a sweat, and is well aware of his own limitations. The battle must end _soon_ , or Seto's life will be the one to forfeit.

He crests the spiny hill of the creature's back, alert for any more dark mist. He finds none, but as soon as he reaches the bear's crown, an icy blue light begins to shimmer. The Ancient Sword responds in kind, singing softly in the prince's hand. A shape forms in the light; a symbol, clear as day, and one Seto takes as his sign to strike.

It's almost beautiful in a way, pristine and glowing brightly as he raises the sword high. He wastes no more time, plunging it deep into the center and yanking it free.

A plume of shadows spurt from the wound, soaking the blade in vicious ink and not much else. The beast does not fall, so it must take more than one strike. A deep, rumbling groan low in the ursine belly alerts the prince to the creature's distress. It shakes, a violent upward motion of its head before settling again. Seto manages to hang on through sheer determination alone.

The second strike comes swiftly on the heels of the first; his hand and tabard are splattered with ash and black blood, but the prince soldiers on.

 _One more attack_ , he thinks. _One more, and you die._

The colossus must sense its imminent demise; it tries harder than before to shake the human free, but Seto is not one to succumb to defeat so easily.

On the third strike, Seto buries the sword all the way to the hilt before pulling it free.

A thick cloud of shadows burst forth, dissipating as quickly as it comes. The creature's dying screams are cut short as it stumbles forward, its own momentum carrying it into the ground. The colossus falls limply to the soil, a marionette with sliced strings.

Miraculously, Seto is unhurt in the fall, managing to cling to an armored ear until the bear lies still. He jumps down, back onto solid ground. He is never more thankful to be alive than right at this moment, pausing to catch his breath.

A frisson of fear slides down his back, icy and full of foreboding. 

Seto turns to find a string of dark tentacles sprouting from the dead idol's crown; outlined in sickly blue, they stretch into the heavens like an eldritch being, sentient and foul.

Khemet's prince feared no man, but this _thing_ \- coating the idol in a blanket of oily shadow - was no mortal entity. He does the only thing a man can do: he _runs_ , flinging clumps of fur and blood from the tip of his blade.

The tendrils catch him anyway, a mere five steps away from the rotting corpse. They strike his torso in a simultaneous lunge, sinking frigid fingers deep into his belly. Inky black spills from his mouth and stomach in a putrid wave, leaving the prince gasping for breath in a bid to stay alive.

Seto's one thought as he falls to his knees, sword clenched in rigor mortis, is that the god would pay for lying to him - in this life, or the next.

A dusky void swims before his eyes as his body falls limp, cheek striking grass and sand.

His death was all for naught; if his love could not find this life again, then neither would he.

***

A sea of stars rush by at lightning speed, surely carrying his soul to the Afterlife. 

He hears nothing but a rush of wind, sees nothing but an endless void, feels _everything_ all at once, and then--

Nothing at all.

***

Seto's eyelids flutter, glossy hummingbird wings against the high arches of his cheeks. Awareness is slow to come, creeping in bit by solitary bit. 

At first, there is only the rough stone beneath his body, coarse and dusted in golden sand, gritty beneath the hand still clutched around the handle of his sword. 

He feels a dark presence somewhere above him; barely conscious, he cannot even lift his sword to banish the entity, resigning himself to a bitter fate.

Finally, his fingers twitch, the tiniest of movements seeming to break the spell of paralysis. Seto climbs slowly to his feet, groaning with the effort.

The shadow is nowhere to be found.

To his surprise, he finds no visible wounds. The only evidence of his encounter with the colossus gleams wickedly on the edge of his blade, ash and blood running off the concavity to sink into the temple floor. The prince shakes his head, dispelling any leftover haze. He strides forward, out from under the bright lights and into the dim shelter of the overhang.

_Yugi._

He sheaths the Ancient Sword, wiping the last of the idol's blood on the edge of his tabard as he ascends the steps of the dais.

Seto approaches his lover's body, unease coiling tight and deep in his belly. Why does he not wake? He did as the god asked of him! He killed the cursed idol, wetting the landscape with its foul miasmal blood.

A great rumble fills the temple proper, and Seto turns back to the hall where he first entered. 

The first idol along the right side, standing proud and tall in its dusty niche, begins to glow with an ethereal white light. It shatters, fragments of glowing stone tumbling to the temple floor. The beast's head is the last to crumble, worn and pitiful in simulated death.

The white light fades away, replaced by a crawling tingle of rage, raw and filled with flaming passion.

As if summoned by his very thought, a swirl of golden motes appear, coalescing into the form of a dark-skinned man.

" _You_!" Seto snarls, taking a threatening step forward. "You _promised_!"

The god quirks a brow, twirling a long lock of hair around a forefinger.

"We sense your anger, but we are not at fault here," he holds up the other hand, halting Seto in his tracks, as though sensing he was about to speak. "We told you. To regain your love's lost soul -" The prince blinks, and Atem is standing on the step below, staring up with wide eyes, dark as sunset and full of raw _power_. "-You. Must. Slay. Them. _All_." The conjoined voices return, painting the last word in otherworldly vibration, a last and final testament.

Seto grits his teeth, unable to lash out. He seethes quietly, a desperate man in shoes far too big to fill.

A rumbling sigh parts the full lips, deep as a coursing river and just as long. The god reaches up, flicking the last bit of blood and ash from the prince's pale cheek.

"We are a god of our word, traveler. Kill them _all_ , and we will bring your lover back from the wide beyond."

The prince of Khemet had never sunk so low, nor flown so high on the words of the forgotten divine.

"Fine." Seto bows his head, defeat etched in every line and curve. "I'll kill them all, and you _will_ bring him back."

Atem chuckles, water tumbling over smooth rocks. "It will be done. You have our word."

A soft touch, whispering down the chiseled edge of his jaw. Seto flicks his eyes upwards, met only with empty light. He looks around, a frantic note of vulnerability in his search.

His worry is all for naught; Atem stands below, bathed in auric tones and awash in holy strength. The god points to his left, at the idol nestled snugly within its shadowy nook.

"Thy next foe is..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Colossi Count:
> 
> [Gladiator Beast Andal](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/yugioh/images/0/0e/GladiatorBeastAndal-LCGX-EN-C-1E.png/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/300?cb=20111007023227) \- In the original PS2 version, you have to shine your sword on all the colossi in order to see their weak points. I'll be taking elements from both the original and the remastered version for this fic.
> 
> Notes:
> 
> -All the colossi will be based on duel monsters. (You can find images of the original colossi on google very easily.)
> 
> -All the chapter names will (likely) be based on some sort of astrological term.
> 
> -For now, Seto will have his season 0 appearance.
> 
> -I still have other fics that need updates, but for now, I'll be prioritizing this fic until my muse says otherwise. (Or I finally move out, one or the other.)
> 
> -It's not explicitly stated, but it is heavily implied that Gozaburo had Yugi sacrificed. The game never tells you why, so I came up with my own reason.
> 
> -If I can pull another Flareshipping fic out of nowhere, I will. We'll see how this goes, first.


	2. Taurus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taurus is the second astrological sign in the present zodiac.
> 
> Element: Earth  
> Ruling planet: Venus  
> Symbol: Bull  
> Zodiac quality: Fixed

_The god points to his left, at the idol nestled snugly within its shadowy nook._

_"Thy next foe is..."_

\---

"In a seaside cave... It moves slowly..." Seto looks at the next idol, hazel eyes narrowing in distaste: a four-legged thing, stone grill in place of a snarling mouth. "Raise thy courage to defeat it..."

"Raise thy courage. Of _course_."

Exertions from the previous battle were still too fresh, and the prince wanted no more arguments. Perhaps the god realized this, letting the bitter sarcasm slide away like water off a fowl's back.

Atem's lips curl in soft farewell as Seto turns his back to whistle for his horse. "Good luck, traveler," he murmurs, voices mingling into a single reverberation around the airy temple.

The prince climbs into Kisara's saddle and nudges her flank, riding out from the shelter of the sacred ruin. He doesn't get far before the voices of the god halt him in his tracks.

"If thou should find an altar similar to that one," Seto turns back to the temple to find the god, shrouded in murky gloom, shoulder pressed against ivy-wrapped stone. He points a finger down towards the entrance, where a slab of rock - slightly set apart from the main facade - lies in the temple's shadow. Situated snugly between the twin sets of stairs, it seems to shimmer faintly in the sunlight. "Offer a prayer before it, and thy wounds shall be healed."

The deity disappears in a whirl of darkness before Seto can find his tongue. 

The prince shakes his head, clucking to his horse. His shoulders are a little sore from so much climbing, but it was nothing he couldn't handle; until he absolutely needed them, the shrines would go unheeded for now.

Drawing the Ancient Sword, Seto lifts it above his head once more, angling the blade until the light condenses into a solid angelic beam. He angles Kisara with it, listening for the tell-tale hum. It comes just as the beam passes through the crumbling temple itself.

_Behind it, then._

Sheathing his weapon, the prince flicks Kisara's reigns, guiding her around the outskirts of the god's domain. It's just as green and barren behind the temple as in front; a wide plain extends before them, and with the sword as his guide, it should be relatively easy to navigate.

A set of twin arches line his path; ribbed and crumbling, they remind Seto of the Endless Bridge just to his right. From such a low vantage point, it seems massive; reaching towards the heavens in curled fingers of stone and mortar. 

They cross a natural bridge, extending from one side of the plain to the other, with nothing but deep blue water below. The faint ebb and flow is soothing; he turns in the saddle to watch it run through a grate behind him and off the precipice. For a brief moment, Seto wonders what it would look like, and if the village rumors were true. 

Did the world _really_ end here?

In a place untouched by the ravages of time, where no men built homes or sired children, the prince would not be at all surprised to find out if it were true. 

Below the bridge to his right, a small sandy cove lies nestled between the cliff - an ancient womb in graceless solitude. Columns from the Endless Bridge call the sand there home, somehow supporting the weight of thousands of pounds of rock. 

_Perhaps there is still some magic in these lands_ , Seto thinks. _After all, colossi exist here and nowhere else._

A ramp slopes gently down into the sand on his right; straight ahead, another plain extends, a dusty fringe of green painted on the countryside. The sword sings as he points it down and to the right - below the bridge it is.

The earth rumbles, a soft detonation from below. Kisara prances backwards, a fearful cry from a spooked soul.

Seto pats the side of her neck until she calms. He sheathes the Ancient Sword, letting the satisfying rasp of metal to leather calm his own nerves. He won't be needing it again until the moment to kill arises.

A clear-cut path lines the cliff face on their way down - the prince could not ask for a more perfect guide. It is hand-crafted, perhaps belonging to the bridge itself at one point.

Now, it points the way to an idol's doom.

There's a moment of foggy recollection as he guides his horse down onto the sand below. It's dull and fuzzy; hard to grasp, and even harder to understand.

The feeling is gone as soon as it comes, and Seto wonders if it was anything at all. 

Bathed in the gloom stretching down from above, he is content to let Kisara trot beneath an arch or two, just so they both have time to get their bearings.

A rough niche - cut into the bottom of the opposite cliff, rough edges set apart from the rest of the rock - catches the prince's eye. He clicks his tongue to Kisara, turning so she can face the abnormality. 

The pillar next to it - larger than life and looming straight up into the overcast sky - reminds him of the first colossus. Like an ant crawling its way on a rotten log, the prince of Khemet wonders what it must be like to stand so tall that people - or _monsters_ \- could crush you underfoot and never be the wiser.

The thought is shattered as the earth trembles anew, rocking him back and forth in the saddle. The door in front of him - meticulously carved in what could almost be a recognizable language - bursts outwards in a shower of earth and rubble. Stone crumbles, sand and dirt raining down from above.

A face appears in the ruin, a giant caged mouth and wicked glowing eyes. It shuffles forward on four legs, one of its horns sliced cleanly in two. Sand shoots out in plumes of coarse beige and cream every time the creature lifts a leg, stamping its weight into the earth - a slothful denizen of dark, rusted corners and long-forgotten by man.

Dark fur covers the colossus in a thick, dull coat of tufted splendor. Armored stone seems to be concentrated almost entirely on its back and face, creating a solid, near-impenetrable cage.

It would not last long under the Khemet-forged steel - ancient ebony tinted in angelic blue, and made for this very purpose.

Seto spies no immediate weak point in the bull's armor, but perhaps a closer examination was necessary.

He guides Kisara as close as she will go without being trampled underfoot, fearlessly around and under, until he spies a strange, almost golden shimmer. Beneath the bull's foot, he notices a faintly luminescent glow; if it were not for the beast's immense size and point-blank proximity, he could not begin to formulate a plan for its demise.

His horse keeps getting spooked, veering too far off course, so Seto does the only sensible thing he could in the heat of the moment. 

He leaps from her back, bow drawn, hitting the sand and rolling to his feet. Slapping her rear, the prince sends the frightened horse away in a bid to save her life. 

Its giant legs rear up for an attack, and Seto spies his chance. Taking a knee, he notches an arrow and pulls the string back until the feathered ends kiss his cheek - a gentle caress in an unkind world.

Taking a calming breath, he lets it loose.

The beast screams as the arrow buries itself in the soft, vulnerable flesh. Armored it may be, but every monster has a weakness, and that weakness can be _exploited_.

The idol's leg crumples beneath its own weight, and Seto wastes no more time, shouldering his bow and dashing forward. He grabs the first bit of fur he sees - clustered in a thick scrub at the knee - and begins the steep ascent.

The beast regains its footing in short time; despite the lumbering music of its gait, it rises swiftly - a silent terror on earthen muscle. He holds on tight with both hands, clawing his way higher among ash-dusted sinew and stone.

Seto chances a look to his left, past the sweeping curve of horn to lock gazes with the monster of old. Round eyes - coalescing with _fire_ and merciless intent - stare deep into his soul, far removed from the haunting blue they first appeared to be. This is no docile creature, but one determined to wipe his existence from this earth by any means necessary.

There is no fear in the prince's eyes as he climbs ever higher, toward the lofty summit of stone. It stretches across the idol's back, intricately carved spinal ridges forming a rough cage around sensitive skin. On level ground once more, he pauses to catch his breath against a rough spike, letting the beast shimmy and shake as much as it wants.

Khemet's prince will not budge; his will is iron - able to bend and flex, but _never_ break.

The beast stills as Seto draws the Ancient Sword, its delicate point a threatening azure glimmer. 

A thin ridge of armor separates the carpet of fur from the tough, dusky skin along its backside. As he nears the edge, walking the line between life and death, an ice blue glyph appears beneath his feet. Its soft pearlescent glow is all he needs, and the prince wastes no time in crouching upon the idol's back.

Lifting the sword above his head, Seto plunges the cold steel deep into the dirt-colored fur.

The beast groans, low and heavy as he pulls the blade free. A spurt of blood, dark as pitch and just as foul, catches him high on the temple. Using his sleeve to wipe the mess from his eyes, he stabs the glyph twice more before its light fades.

The bull trods a leisurely circle around the small arena, each attempt to shake the prince from its back more feeble than the last. Its pace remains unchanged; still alive, but looking strained.

_There must be another glyph elsewhere.._

Though a bit smaller than the last, it was still larger than life, plodding on armored soles towards the waters' edge. 

Seto scales the spiny curve of its back, hopping each vertebrae with increased determination. A small plateau, only fit for one man to trod, lies at the crown of the bull's head. A second symbol, brighter than the last, glows proudly among the ash-dusted fur.

The beast shakes its massive head, trying once more in vain to wrest the human from his mountainous perch. Seto clings on stubbornly, crawling forward to better position his shadow-slick blade.

It tosses its head from side to side, shrieking in agony as the prince continues to pick away at the icy tethers of its worn existence. With each successful stab, Seto is that much closer to killing the unfortunate giant of the sandy wastes.

With a final jab, the idol's moans fade into garbled silence, toppling to the ground in an explosive shower of sand. 

The prince leaps from the stone-lined crown into the soft dunes below. Stumbling to his feet, Seto sheathes the sword and makes a run for Kisara, who he spies near the ramp, taking a long draught from a solitary pool.

The idol's corpse lies still, shrouded in murky shadow. He wipes a drop of its blood from a sweat-slick brow, flinging it to the sand - an ugly blight on an otherwise pristine coast. 

Just as he stops, out of breath and trembling, a column of tentacles rise from the rotting body of the fallen colossus. He knows what is coming, and before he can reach the safety of Kisara's saddle, he feels white-hot agony rip into the curve of his spine.

Choking on the black miasma, thick and viscous on his tongue, Seto collapses onto the sun-warm dune just shy of the water's edge.

His vision fades into darkness, the last motes of ash staining his tongue black as death.

***

A rippling white light, a scattering kaleidoscope of stars.

Unfamiliar whispers curl and sway, faint and terribly inviting.

Seto feels a coil of heat settle in his chest, trailing tar-stained fingers around the gilded cage of his ribs.

A blossoming white halo, and then - _nothing_.

***

The temple floor seems cold despite the miles of sunlight sparkling from on high.

Twin silhouettes of shadow haunt the corners of his vision, the shades of a long-forgotten empire. 

Full consciousness returns, just in time to hear the first statue on his left shatter, imploding in light-stained fragments and littering the dim niche with ancient dust and shame.

Seto climbs to his feet, a broken-down royal nestled in the cradle of the gods. 

He coughs out the last of the ash coating his lungs, making his way toward the dais and the plinth beyond; resting his back against intricately crafted stone, legs stretched out in front of him, exhausted to his core. Two slain beasts lie behind him now, and the warrior prince can finally admit that he needs to pause this suicidal venture.

His head knocks gently against worn rock, eyes falling slowly shut to the faded world of gold around him. The sound of stamping hooves nearby alerts him to Kisara's presence, but Seto cannot be bothered to call for her again so soon.

He does not feel tired in the _physical_ sense; rather, it is a bone-deep weariness born of too long spent fighting a losing battle of the _soul_.

A rush of wind in his ears, a coiling breath of air - the presence of divinity, come to summon him back to the fringes of war.

"I think I understand why you would risk your life for him."

His eyes flicker open, a quick slip of candlelight in the gloom. He turns to find the sleek curve of Atem's bare calf, lean and muscled, and within easy reach. Gaze trailing upward - past the gilded edge of linen and rippling indigo at his back - he meets the warm eyes, a sunset on fire staring down fondly at the body lying before him.

"I love him," Seto murmurs, the simple declaration carrying the full weight of his devotion behind it.

"If you did not, you would not be here." Atem brushes a forefinger down Yugi's pale cheek, full lips a thoughtful line. "He must be very precious to you."

Seto nods, gaze wandering to the crumbling detritus of the fallen idol.

"I would do _anything_ to see his smile, just _one_ more time."

Quiet tears leak from his eyes, carving tiny sparkling rivers along the blood splattered cheeks. The soft patter of the god's sandaled feet carry him in front of the prince, kneeling before the dais in a rare display of humanity.

"And so you _will_ ," Atem murmurs, silken baritone voice mingling into a holy choir. "We have the power to ensure his soul's safe return."

Seto climbs to his feet, weary and battle-scarred.

"Who _are_ you?"

The golden deity shrugs, straightening to his full height, cloth rustling in a semblance of wings upon the noble back.

"We are Atem, and _you_ -" a sun-kissed finger glides down the pale slope of his throat "- are the warrior scorned, who will right the wrongs of an ancient past."

Seto blinks, swallowing down a thick lump the heated touch leaves behind. It leaves his blood thumping in his throat, the ridges of his ears blossoming warm, and tingling in all the layers beneath the surface. 

Atem vanishes in a swirl of fabric and shadow, only to reappear within the circle of auric light below.

The prince only has to follow the direction of the god's gaze to know which colossus he will have to slay next.

"Thy next foe is..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Colossus Count:
> 
> [Beast of the Pharaoh](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/yugioh/images/8/8b/BeastofthePharaoh-OP03-EN-C-UE.png/revision/latest?cb=20161205172823) \- Literally the easiest colossus to take down, yet this chapter was a bit of a struggle. I kept it short, at least.
> 
> Notes:
> 
> \- I figured out why Atem is the Way He Is, so I will be dropping hints here and there to see if anyone else can guess.
> 
> \- I describe the colossus based on the images in the game, rather than their duel monster appearances. Just imagine the cards as colossi, and there you go. It makes it easier on me (and Seto) in the long run.


End file.
